Nine Months
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: Nine Months of Oliver and Katie.


**Written for First Mate cover in the KBOW.**

**A little snapshot into nine months of Oliver and Katie. Word count: 1904.**

Nine Months 

_ Eight months before…_

"I can't really believe that this is actually happening!" Ginny squealed, giving Katie a hug before dancing over to the kettle and pouring them both a cup of tea. "Pregnant, at the same time!"

Katie smiled, and nodded as Ginny slid the cup of tea over to her. "It's a little of a coincidence, I think." She said, taking a careful sip of the tea, so she wouldn't aggravate her morning sickness. "Oliver thinks it's a complete accident."

Ginny scoffed, sitting opposite Katie. "Of course _he _would." She rolled her eyes. "He's a un-romantic git. How long have you been married?"

"A month." Katie sighed, thinking back on the best few weeks of her life. Oliver was, amazingly, a pretty good boyfriend, and an even better husband. Although, she had been forced into that humiliating dress (too short…) for that bloody interview that everyone needed from the Quidditch superstar's new wife, and then all that hate mail from Oliver's groupies really had worn her down.

They'd have a field day when they discovered that Katie was pregnant with a Quidditch baby. Ginny was on similar grounds, carrying the Boy-That-Lived-Twice's baby too, so they had decided to face the press (*ahem* Rita Skeeter) together.

But with Ginny's temper, Katie's blissful ignorance and the Weasley family right behind the pair of them (Oliver's cousin Audrey was dating Percy), maybe they could pull through.

…Hopefully.

_Seven months before…_

"Oliver, I am not going to raise my child as a Puddlemere supporter!" Katire sighed, looking up at the gold painted bulrushes on the wall, to the blue and sea green colours. The rosettes that Oliver had won for Quidditch were displayed in a cabinet, along with his trophies, but they would soon be moved.

Unless Oliver got his way, and convinced Katie to allow them to have a dusty cabinet of even dustier trophies that could easily fall on the baby and squish it in the nursery.

"But…" Oliver stuttered, eyes wide. "Katie, you do know it's _our _baby, right? And I'm the Keeper and Captain, and still will be in nine… eight… six?"

Katie sighed, and handed Oliver a paintbrush. "Seven months Ollie." She raised a delicate eyebrow at her husband's lack of time keeping. "Just seven. And you'd better hurry up and get this wall whitewashed if you don't want to be late for practice."

Oliver looked like he was going to protest – he _had _just spent the last three hours painting the bulrushes onto the wall – but then he took one look at his angry, hormonal wife, and gulped, turning back to the wall and wishing that Katie wasn't such a devout Harpies fan.

But then he smirked.

Puddlemere would totally obliterate the Harpies this season. Then he'd see who would be laughing…

Oliver felt a little sense of dread as he painted over the bulrushes. Then he blinked, and shook that thought out of his head. He wasn't going to jinx Puddlemere's great luck. The Kestrals were looking especially strong this year. They'd have to be on the lookout for spies, and maybe he could instate some new practices as well.

The Puddlemere guys (and the gal they had as Seeker) were a lot more receptive to extra practice then the old Gryffindors.

Oliver smiled, despite the rapidly disappearing bulrushes, as he remembered when Fred and George had thrown a bucket of water over him, back in fifth year. It was quite an affective comeback, come to think of it.

And, well, George had roared with laughter when Oliver had applied similar treatment at his wedding to Angelina.

"Ollie?"

"Yes?" Oliver said, trying to both paint the wall and nonchalantly look back down the stepladder at Katie, who looked slightly annoyed.

"Get on with it."

Oliver sagged. With a wife with such mad hormones, maybe Puddlemere would fail this season.

A cough from said wife got him back on task, however.

_Six months before…_

"Eh." Mr Bell – Katie's aging father (not that Oliver was quite brave enough to say that to Katie's father's face) - said, for the umpteenth time. In fact, he didn't seem to say anything else. Maybe it was some kind of speech impediment, brought on by Mr Bell's age?

Oliver wasn't exactly going to say _that _too.

"What I don't understand." Mr Bell continued, in the characteristically gruff voice of a father-in-law. "Is why Katie would want blankets in pink? Is it a girl?"

"We decided to wait." Oliver said, closing his eyes and summoning all strength he had. "Until the baby's born. Katie wants a girl, I want a boy."

Oliver again exempted the full truth. There had been bets going around about the Wood-Bell kiddy. George had ten Galleons on it being a girl, Harry had five on a boy, and even Hermione bloody Weasley had given Ron a few coins to bet on it being a girl too.

Was it just something about Oliver and Katie Wood that meant that they couldn't just have a normal marriage and pregnancy? Rita Skeeter had already spread rumours damaging enough to destroy Molly Weasley's brain cells, and now the group gathered around them decided to wrack havoc on Katie and him, not Harry and Ginny.

_Wood baby – but is it a Wood?_

_Rumours circulating that Katie Wood may be pregnant – with triplets!_

_Is the Puddlemere Captain seeing someone else?_

That last headline had made Katie extremely teary and hormonal, and climaxed in a broken set of crockery. Oliver had hid out in the broom shed, and didn't surface until Ginny had completely convinced Katie that Oliver wasn't smart enough to _not _be monogamous.

Katie looked over to where he father and husband were 'getting along' and smirked, turning back to her mother. "Dad looks like he's having fun."

Mrs Bell looked over too, in time to see Katie's father mouth 'save me!' at her, rather desperately. She chuckled herself, and shook her head. "Oh, dear me, they certainly are."

"Oliver can't get subtlety, can he?" Katie sighed, picking up (yet another) pink baby grow. "Is pink okay? We're still not sure about gender yet."

"You can always change the colour." Mrs Bell said, regarding the baby grow with a head to one side. "Or your baby can grow up in pink. Didn't Fleur Weasley raise her daughter in blue?"

Katie grimaced – she'd never liked Fleur at all. She was insufferable at the best of times. "Well, Fleur's Fleur, she could make Victoire look beautiful in brown." She said, hiding her grimace.

Mrs Bell smirked to herself, but put a few more blankets in the basket. Just to annoy Andrew, she told herself.

_Five months before…_

That was the third time Katie had been forced to get up in one night.

Damn baby. But then she reprimanded herself sharply. No bad language around Steven/Dahlia/Cecilia/William.

The name list had been shortened to two pieces of crumpled parchment, taped to the front door (not outside, inside). _Oliver _was also supposed to be choosing the godparents for their kid, but apparently he 'kept getting side-tracked'.

"Katie, why was the list of godparents taped to my broomstick?" Oliver asked, stomping into the kitchen, practically dripping with mud. When he saw Katie's expression, he begrudgingly pulled out his wand and cleaned the mess up.

"Because you 'keep getting side-tracked'." She smiled. "With your broomstick."

Oliver groaned inwardly, but tried to keep his outer appearance of 'normality' up. "The guys at Puddlemere found it." He sighed. "And then decided to make it into a huge banner to fly at the game against Portree. Thus embarrassing me in the process."

Katie decided not to comment on this.

She kept her gaze firmly on her chopping board. And didn't look up until Oliver was well away. Then she threw some Floo Powder in the fire, calling for Angelina.

"Ready?" Angelina said, when she appeared, not ten minutes later, armed with green paint and an expression of incredible smugness.

Katie nodded, before laughing.

The nursery might not be decked out in Puddlemere colours, but that didn't mean that it couldn't be arranged for the Harpies.

_Three months before…_

"I feel so _fat._" Katie sighed, lying back on the sofa.

"You're not fat love." Oliver insisted, rubbing small circles onto her bloated belly, smiling every time that the baby kicked. "I think little Charlie's going to be a Quidditch player."

"Please say that you haven't decided to name our baby after Charlie bloody Weasley, a flippin' Dragon Whisperer." Katie groaned, staring at the ceiling.

Charlie Weasley was known as 'The Dragon Whisperer' in their house, and many others too, which was meant to be an insult of ridiculous proportions. Oliver shook his head quickly (a moody pregnant Katie Amanda Bell wasn't anything good for him or his career), and tried to amend his statement.

"What about Ellie?" He asked, picking the first name out of thin air. "That was your grandmother's name, wasn't it?"

"I have a second cousin called Ellie too, she's annoying as hell, and she's only three." Katie shrugged that name off. "Do you remember the toddler that refused to come to our wedding in anything but that Muggle Spiderman suit? That's Ellie. I dread the day she goes to Hogwarts."

Oliver remembered the wayward toddler. He shuddered. Spiderman was a freak of nature. "Okay." He agreed. "What about-"

"Oliver, I have three months until Quidditch baby is born, go and get me a chocolate frog." Katie complained.

_One week before…_

Katie was probably in the worst place ever when her waters broke.

She was at Lee and Alicia's house. Lee of the annoying disposition and the annoying radio voice, and Alicia of the complete and utter inability to take anything seriously and the job Arthur Weasley used to have before the War.

"Allie?"

Alicia had laughed for about six minutes straight before she realised. Then she ran around the kitchen screaming, and Katie attempted to wrestle what she could into a bag, with her belly getting in the way.

"IT'S TOO EARLY!" Alicia was screaming. "WHAT IF YOU DIE? WHAT IF OLIVER FALLS OFF HIS BROOM? WHAT IF-"

"It's only a week off." Katie sighed. "Alicia, I can't apparate or take the Floo. For gods sake, help me out of the front door!"

Alicia calmed down long enough to help Katie out, but as an accompanier, she was, to put it in coarse terms, absolute crap. She spouted nonsense about the likelihoods of her kid having blonde versus brown hair, blue versus green eyes, using something called a 'punnet square' that she learnt about in the Muggle course she wanted to take after Hogwarts.

Oliver wasn't flying when he got the news (which was good – he probably would have fallen off).

Flipping off several reporters, Gwenog Jones (was it a coincidence that the Harpies was his opposition?) and grabbing his broom, he apparated straight to St. Mungo's.

_Time…_

Katie was already holding his child when he saw her.

"Where have you been? I first had contractions six hours ago." She sighed. "Trust you to miss me _giving birth._"

But Oliver didn't care, because Katie handed him _his child. _It was a boy (blue blankets… Mr Bell would be pleased), with blonde hair and adorable blue eyes, just like Katie.

"Matthew." Katie said, smiling up at her husband. "Matthew Fred, I thought."

Oliver could only nod, and kiss her. "You're amazing." He murmured.


End file.
